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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26268793">Beneath the Mirrorball</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/miss_nettles_wife/pseuds/miss_nettles_wife'>miss_nettles_wife</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Doctor Blake Mysteries</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Dancing, Long-Term Relationship(s), M/M, One Shot, Period Typical Homophobia, Post canon, there's also canon/oc relationships for Mattie and Danny but theyre not important lol</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 05:19:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,875</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26268793</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/miss_nettles_wife/pseuds/miss_nettles_wife</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Charlie and Matthew dance together at Jean and Lucien's tenth wedding anniversary</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Charlie Davis/Matthew Lawson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Beneath the Mirrorball</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>inspired partially by the second to last chapter in to Jump or Not by Joyboo when Matthew and Charlie decide not to dance at Rose's wedding and i was like :( i think they should dance. and Lennon's influence of course :'')</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>By the time Charlie got off the dance floor, he was feeling a little dizzy from spinning for so long in time with the mirrored ball hanging from the ceiling. But in a good way. He’d worked the anxious cricks out of his muscles and he felt...Light inside. He kissed Mattie on the cheek as he left the dancefloor, the pink and red lighting of the last few songs of the evening basking him in a warm glow. His husband sat, drink in hand, watching him. Matthew wasn’t a dancer, even before the accident but it seemed sometimes he was more than happy to just watch Charlie do as he pleased...So long as he knew who to come back to at the end of the night. </p><p>Mattie’s party had been a raging success, for Jean and Lucien’s tenth anniversary. It wasn’t their anniversary for another month, but Mattie was heading back to Europe in a couple of days and Jean wanted her here to celebrate it with them. Only a few hours ago, the place had been jam-packed with the party revellers. People from many different walks of life, all invited by Mattie to try and make this a night to remember. Of course, Charlie had been roped into helping most of the party, serving drinks and entertaining the many small children that had been hanging around. But now the food was mostly eaten, the drinks almost drunk and the noisy children tucked away safely in their beds. The few who remained were just their inner circle of friends, not ready to admit quite yet that Mattie’s trip home was almost over. </p><p>“I saved you the last Coke,” Matthew said, offering Charlie the glass bottle, condensation dripping down the outside and over his fingers. </p><p>“You’re a lifesaver, Boss.” He replied, taking it and knocking half of it back without even thinking. </p><p>“You probably won’t have to call me that for much longer.” He observed, as Charlie sat on the seat next to him, it had been pulled just close enough that their knees could bump against one another. Like two close friends might feel alright doing. It was true, Matthew was practically retired. Charlie had taken over most of the jobs at the station he used to do - And the paperwork. </p><p>“We’ll see,” Charlie replied, making it clear he didn’t think Matthew was ever going to retire properly when his station was still standing. He didn’t mind. Maybe he would have when they first met but having someone breathing down your back isn’t as bad when that person is your husband. He settled into his chair, and Matthew gave him a look that he knew was practically a grin. </p><p>“You’re not a bad dancer,” Matthew says, sipping his whiskey carefully. He doesn’t drink much anymore, and he never smokes if only because he doesn’t want Charlie harassing him about it. “You should try it more often.” Charlie laughs slightly, the sound of it is lost in Lucien as he bangs away drunkenly at the piano that the hired pianist had been playing before. </p><p>“I’m not really, Mattie was just shoved into so many dancing classes as a kid she can make anyone look good.” He took another long sip of his drink and slipped one hand between them, nudging Matthew’s pinkie finger with his own. Matthew accepted and allowed his finger to rest underneath Charlie’s both of them watching Mattie and her roommate from France spin together, and Danny and his girlfriend. Mattie never seemed to get tired, and the two of them were almost matching, in their floor-length suit pants. The biggest difference was that her Roommate, Mariann had white-blonde hair styled in an untrendy bob cut that Charlie distinctly remembered Rose wearing once, while Mattie’s red hair was long with little flips at the end. They made for a good pair, the two of them even if it meant Mattie would probably never come home permanently. </p><p>“You two should dance,” Jean says, as she approaches them from the side. She’s beaming ear to ear, swept away in her green dress. </p><p>“I just did,” Charlie replies, both he and Matthew separating their hands on instinct. If Jean notices then she doesn’t say just presses on. </p><p>“I mean together.” </p><p>“I don’t dance,” Matthew says, flatly and right away. The ‘can’t’ and ‘anymore’ are blessedly left unspoken. </p><p>Guilt lives inside Charlie Davis. When Charlie saw him, he was making eye contact with himself, the same greying curly hair, and light blue eyes. The same freckle on his throat and the same thin, pink scar on his forehead from when Norman Baker hit him across the head. And he let guilt follow him around for years, stalking after him, watching his every move and trying to sabotage him. When he wondered about Matthew, guilt was the first to assure him that Matthew couldn’t possibly be interested in him, he was the cause of the accident if anything, Matthew should hate him. </p><p>Guilt ate him up when Blake went missing and he couldn’t leave Bonehead to help look, hung off his back when he finally did make it back to Ballarat. Guilt watched him from the top of his fathers grave the only time he went to lay flowers. When Rose came home and he was reminded of their last big blow out fight, it was guilt who saw the mournful look Matthew gave her as she left and reminded him it was his fault she couldn’t stay. Nowadays, though, guilt is locked in a storm cellar, at the very bottom of his mind. He’s emaciated and thin and whenever Charlie’s thoughts glance by him he reaches out long, misshapen fingers into the gap between the doors. Matthew has told him a hundred million times that it’s not his fault, sometimes he doesn’t even wait for guilt’s long fingers to curve up through the cellar door. Sometimes he just shoves his cane through to knock him away and their day continues. Maybe one day, if Charlie leaves him alone long enough, he’ll waste away to nothing. </p><p>“You used to dance.” Says Jean, “You used to play guitar, in school.” Matthew fixed her with a look Charlie has seen many times before, his lips pulled into a tight line. </p><p>“With another man?” He asks, voice low and sardonic. She rolls her eyes good-naturedly and pats Charlie on the arm. <br/>
“Talk him into it, won’t you?” She asks, “Look around, is there anyone here you don’t trust?” Before she flitters away to stop Lucien going for another drink, calling his name across the dancefloor. Tiny squares of light roll off her dress in waves as the mirrorball continues its slow dance with itself. </p><p>He listens to her, though. Takes his time looking around the room. Lucien and Jean they trust, of course. No one was happier to see Matthew happy than Lucien, and Jean was much the same though she made Charlie nervous at first. Mattie is with her woman, and he trusts Mariann with her. Rose is the only one they ever really came out too because she deserved to know if her ex was going to be with her uncle. Danny has never said a bad word about them, in all the years he’s been Charlie’s best mate if he was going to say something he would have said it already. His girlfriend...Well, maybe Danny understood secret relationships more than Charlie usually gave him credit. At least Charlie could live with Matthew, Danny’s girl was from the station on the other side of town. The running joke was that since he couldn’t have Charlie he’d have the next best thing. She did look a lot like him, they both had dark curly hair, blue eyes and a round face but that was where it stopped. She was far more like Danny in personality. If they married, then she’d have to quit her job and she would never do that, and he’s quite sure cops aren’t meant to date other cops even if they do come from another station. </p><p>In fact, the only person here he wouldn’t trust with his life is Jack, and they’ve long since had a ceasefire in order to appease Jean. Would he blab? Probably not, if he wanted to stay in his mother's will. He climbed back to his feet and took hold of Matthew’s hand. </p><p>“Dance with me?” He asked, and Matthew stood. He was rarely one to deny Charlie anything he asked for - work hours notwithstanding. </p><p>“How do you intend us to do that?” He asked as he followed Charlie to the dancefloor, illuminated red by the overhead lights, washes of little squares rolling over his face. “I can’t do much other than stand here.” </p><p>“Well, then you stand here, and I’ll do the dancing,” Charlie said, meaning it. Matthew did as he was told, standing still under the mirrorball, giving Charlie a bemused look. The corner of his lips had pulled up into the slightest of smiles, one grey white eyebrow pulled just slightly up on his forehead. Charlie draped both of his arms over the top of Matthew’s shoulders, and then put his forehead against his shoulder. Then, he did the only type of slow dancing he knew. Swaying back and forth, pulling Matthew with him but not too far as to make him take his weight off his good leg. </p><p>After a moment, Matthew brought one hand up around Charlie’s waist, holding him close. Through his shirt, and then jumper, Charlie can hear his heartbeat. It’s slow and calm. No one has said anything to them, he’s scared to look up but he doubts anyone is looking either. For a moment, it all just feels so. Normal. Perhaps that’s what he misses most about being with women if there was anything to miss. Being normal. </p><p>Charlie felt, quite often, like he was stuck in a hallway. On one side, there was normal life. The one he might have lived if he’d fallen in love with someone else. Children, holding hands, asking for one bed at a motel room. The normalest things you could ever think of that he’s never been able to do with Matthew. Having to endure people looking at his husband suggestively, even one particularly bold woman suggesting that he should take her out and marriage would be on the cards. At the time, he’d thought it was funny. Now, it makes him...Melancholic. For a different time, a time that he will probably never know, where people can just be with other people without fear of retaliation. </p><p>Which...Was kind of on the other side of the hall. Other queer people. His people, technically. The ones out there, fighting for their rights, his rights too. Protesting, rioting, calling up candidates. Charlie knows candidates through Jean, he knows Jean too and he knows she would never vote to allow gay people to marry. He’s long since past caring about any of that, but it upsets him that he’s trapped inside his closest he built for himself. His blue closet. At best, an annoyance who crowds in at events, baton in hand waiting for an excuse to use it. At worst, a downright obstacle looking to tear people down and away from power. </p><p> And there he is, trapped in his hallway, looking into two worlds, part of neither. But would he change it? He doesn’t think so. For whatever it was worth, Matthew is the love of his life. That sounds cheesy but it’s true. No other love he’d ever had even came close to it. Did other people in love feel the way he did, watching the sun make its lazy arc across the sky in the early morning, the pink-blue light shining in on Matthew, curving around his features as it entered between the slats in the blinds? Did they also gleefully watch scars that used to be red fade into pinks and whites? With his nose so close to him, he can smell Matthew’s aftershave. It smells like cinnamon. He doesn’t know what brand, has never in eight years thought to ask. It shows up every year, in a red bottle tied with a red bow and a card from Vera. He doesn’t want to ask, doesn’t want to know. Just wants to keep pretending - even if he knows better - that the smell is distinctly Matthew’s, rather than that of a mass-produced fragrance in a glass bottle that hundreds of other men probably smell like. </p><p>Personally, he used a brand called Brut. It was cheap, and it smelled okay. Certainly, Matthew’s opinion was the only one that mattered to him when it came to personal hygiene and he’d never had a bad word to say about it, nor tried to talk Charlie into buying something else. He had gifted him aftershaves and colognes over Christmas every now and then but hardly with the stoic regularity, Vera did. Anyway, he was pretty sure Matthew wasn’t above using his when he ran out of his own and Charlie would be lying if he said he hadn’t once or twice given Matthew’s pillow a few spritz-es before he went away to Melbourne so that it would still smell like him while he was away. </p><p>After a moment longer, he felt Matthew’s chin come to rest atop his head. It feels good to have him there. It occurs to him that before now, they’ve never danced together. Not that they haven’t danced. Charlie has danced for Matthew, who would observe and perhaps tap his foot to the music. He used to dance when he was still going to singles nights and meeting women to keep up appearances so to speak but he doesn’t do that anymore. People have stopped caring about him, their gossip is more in the realm of ‘poor Charlie, feels so guilty about what happened to Lawson, and he’s so obsessed with his work.’ And perhaps they’re right. He doesn’t think any relationship of his would have lasted if it wasn’t with someone who understood that work was a part of their marriage like a third person but more than that...It wasn’t about guilt. Yes, he felt guilty about what happened despite many years of assurances otherwise but that’s not why he’s here. He can’t help the little sighing sound he made, the air escaping mostly into Matthew’s shoulders. </p><p>“You’re never going to figure out how to turn that brain of yours off, are you?” Matthew asked, and Charlie can almost hear his raised eyebrow. </p><p>“Probably not.” He said, easily.</p><p>“What are you thinking about?” </p><p>“Nothing important. Just about you.” </p><p>“About me?” Matthew’s arm that was around Charlie’s waist shifted slightly for a better hold and Charlie looked up to see him better. The way the light played over his cheekbones gave him a slightly skeletal look. He has spent many nights feeling along those same cheekbones. It’s the first thing, anyone notices about Matthew, it was certainly the first thing Charlie noticed. They make him seem stern, and he is stern no bones about it. But...He was also funny when he wanted to be. Deviously sarcastic, his mother once said. Of course, his mother adored Matthew. Pretty much everyone except Bernie did but Bernie would hate anyone Charlie happened to bring home simply on the basis that they came with Charlie. Matthew hated him in return, so there was no love lost there. Not having kids of their own meant they could afford to spoil the various nieces and nephews that were always crowding the place. He thinks Matthew’s favourite is Short’s middle daughter, they both have the same serious personality and she’s already talking about being a police officer one day. </p><p>He’s never told any of them explicitly what his relationship with Matthew is. He’s never needed too. Same with Vera, they usually spilt holidays in Melbourne between his family for the morning to open presents with the children and then head to Vera’s for dinner, meeting up with Rose and her sister the equally red-headed Lily. He got along well with her and Vera. More Vera. Much like Matthew, she was tense, and a little highly strung but friendly enough that he never felt unwelcome. Spoke about their childhood even less than Matthew did and Matthew had next to nothing to say about it other than he wishes that Norm and Shirley had been his parents. </p><p>“I was just thinking about how different things could be if we were normal.” </p><p>“We are normal.” Matthew says, “We’re the most normal people to ever grace Ballarat with our presence. Why, are you thinking about chasing criminals across bridges in Sydney? That would be abnormal.” </p><p>“Very funny. I meant like...If we could get married in a Church, adopt some kids, you know. Be normal.” </p><p>“I think about that too.” Matthew admitted, “I’d like to give you children of your own.” </p><p>“I wouldn’t change anything.” He sighed, putting his head down, this time facing slightly to the side, “I’m happy, being with you.”</p><p>“Well, you’ve stuck it out longer than most so I’d hope so.” That makes him chuckle like it’s just the two of them, swaying gently underneath the mirrorball. </p>
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